


The Best of Women

by cruciel



Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-06
Updated: 2005-11-06
Packaged: 2017-10-05 17:17:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruciel/pseuds/cruciel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a match made in…well, heaven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best of Women

All in all, Zaraki believed that he got the best result out of the whole sordid deal. He came to this conclusion when the 11th division barracks, nay, the entire Sereitai didn’t implode upon the meeting of one tiny Soi Fong and one tinier Yachiru  Kusajika.

“Hey, brat.” Soi Fong greeted her new daughter, glaring down flatly at the candy-floss hair. “I hear you’re well behaved.”

Yachiru blinked. Then she turned to Zaraki and pointed at Soi Fong.

“Ken-Chan?” she asked in her best ‘please explain or I’ll eat your head?’ voice.

Zaraki fought the urge to rub the back of his neck just barely. The bells twinkled ominously in the heavy and expectant silence.

“Well, see, Yachiru…the fact is…you’re growing up and…you prolly need someone to, you know. Look after you. Thought you might need someone female, like. You know. To talk to and all that garbage.”

The brave and proud members of the 11th division watched the scenario bravely and proudly- behind a six feet thick wall. The Captain had done the impossible. The Captain had got married. The Captain brought home a demure, tiny and politely spoken woman. An equal, no less. A Captain herself, very powerful. And one that possibly matched Zaraki’s ruthlessness, complete lack of mercy and expertise in torture. It was a match made in…well, heaven.

Consequently, they now had Soi Fong as the mistress of the division and the house.

And that was before Yachiru was thrown into the bargain.

The walls did not collapse that fateful day. Ikkaku was broke for a month, and Yumichika was seen sporting a loud peacock fascinator, openly gloating and swaggering like a duck.

And that was just the beginning of it, the 3rd ranking shinigami noted sourly. He should have known that something was deeply wrong when his captain, _Zaraki Kenpachi,_ afeared and held in awe for his sheer brute strength and who also held social graces of a rock, asked him about how to propose to women. Of all things.

“So…you don’t just sort of knock them out unconscious and drag them back?” he had rumbled, large frame hunched in rare contemplative posture, eyes narrowed.

“Ah. No, sir. Absolutely not.” Ikkaku had replied, swallowing nervously as he eyed the serrated edge of the Captain’s unnamed zanpaktou weaving back and forth, as if seeking the next blood prey. “It is considered against…protocol, sir. Behaviour between men and women. They wouldn’t stand for it nowadays sir.”

“No, she wouldn’t…” Zaraki had mused as if there was already someone in mind. “Che. Bloody nuisance,” he spat, hunching down even further so that he looked like a giant, malevolent echidna. “Damned Yachiru…”

“Sir?”

“Oh, she’s just been all sulky lately, that’s all,” Zaraki slashed at the air irritably, causing his bald lieutenant to jump back nervously. Ikkaku wasn’t always this jumpy, except the aura around his captain was tinged with brooding violence, about to be unleashed. This had gone on for three days, the interrogations.  As to the link between Captain’s sudden urge for female companionship and the tiny horror of a fukutaichou, Ikkaku didn’t know.

He didn’t _want_ to know. 

In hindsight, maybe he should have dug further. He could have prevented this disaster. He sagged despondently as a patient contralto voice somewhere in the compound admonished, “no, that’s not how you disembowel a suspected traitor. You finish too quickly, Yachiru.”

“He was screaming too much, ka-chan! Mr. BoBo is noisy and messy!”

“That’s the point, Yachiru. You have a lot to learn. Here. Watch me.”

_Mr. Bobo?_ If Ikkaku had hair, they would have stood on their ends and pirouetted in terror.

If Yachiru herself had been a force to be reckoned with, her new mother was a nightmare. With their powers combined, it was a wonder the walls of Seireitei were still standing. It was eerily quiet around the town lately. Empty quiet, like.

Ikkaku started contemplating the merits of transferring to another division, as another shriek of agony pierced the warm summer afternoon.


End file.
